Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [7]
“I mean, cargo hauling, smuggling, passenger craft, what? Ever work for the Coalition?”
“Not bloody likely!” Malvery said. “The Cap’n would sooner gulp a pint of rat piss.” He reddened suddenly. “Pardon the language.”
Jez waved it away. “Just tell me what I’m signing up for.”
Malvery harrumphed. “We ain’t what you’d call a very professional lot, put it that way,” he said. “Cap’n sometimes doesn’t know his arse from his elbow, to tell you truth. Mostly we do black-market stuff, smuggling here and there. Passenger transport too. We help out people who want to get somewhere they shouldn’t be going and don’t want anyone finding out. And we’ve been known to try a bit of light piracy now and again when the opportunity comes along. I mean, the haulage companies sort of expect to lose one or two cargoes a month. They budget for it, so there’s no harm done.” He made a vague gesture in the air. “We sort of do anything, really, if the price is right.”
Jez deliberated for a moment. Their operation was clearly a shambles, but that suited her well enough. They didn’t seem like types who would ask many questions, and she was lucky to find work at all in Scarwater, let alone something in her field of expertise. To keep moving was the important thing. Staying still too long was dangerous.
She held out her hand. “Alright. Let’s see how it goes.”
“Fine decision! You won’t regret it. Much.” Malvery enfolded her hand in thick, meaty fingers and shook it enthusiastically. Jez couldn’t help wondering how he managed to button his coat with fingers like that, let alone perform complex surgery.
“You really a doctor?” she asked.
“Certified and bona fide!” he declared, and she smelled rum on his breath.
They heard a thump from within the belly of the craft. Malvery wandered around to the Ketty Jay’s stern, and Jez followed. The cargo ramp was down. Inside, someone was rolling a heavy steel canister along the floor in the gloom. The angle prevented Jez from seeing anything more than a pair of long legs clad in thick trousers and boots.
“Might as well introduce you,” said Malvery. “Hey there! Silo! Say hello to the new navvie.”
The figure in the cargo hold stopped and squatted on his haunches, peering out at them. He was tall and narrow-hipped, but his upper body was hefty with muscle, a thin cotton shirt pulled tight across his shoulders and chest. Sharp eyes peered out from a narrow face with a beaked nose, and his head was shaven. His skin was a dark yellow-brown, the color of umber.
He regarded Jez silently, then got to his feet and resumed his labor.
“That’s Silo. Engineer. Man of few words, you could say, but he keeps us all in the sky. Don’t mind his manner; he’s like that with everyone.”
“He’s a Murthian,” Jez observed.
“That’s right. You have been around.”
“Never seen one outside of Samarla. I thought they were all slaves.”
“So did I,” said Malvery.
“So he belongs to the Cap’n?”
Malvery chuckled. “No, no. Silo, he ain’t no slave. They’re friends of a sort, I suppose, though you wouldn’t know it sometimes. His story … well, that’s between him and the Cap’n. They ain’t said, and we ain’t asked.” He steered Jez away. “Come on, let’s go meet our flyboys. The Cap’n and Crake ain’t about right now. I expect they’ll be back once their hangovers clear up.”
“Crake?”
“He’s a daemonist.”
“You have a daemonist on board?”
Malvery shrugged. “That a problem?”
“Not for me,” Jez replied. “It’s just … well, you know how people are about daemonists.”
Malvery made a rasping noise. “You’ll find we ain’t a very judgmental lot. None of us is in much of a position to throw stones.”
Jez thought about that and then smiled.
“You’re not in with that Awakener lot, are you?” Malvery asked suspiciously. “If so, you can toddle off right now.”
Jez imitated Malvery’s rasp. “Not likely.”
Malvery beamed and slapped her on the back, hard enough to dislodge some vertebrae. “Good to hear.”
They walked out of the Ketty Jay’s shadow and across the landing pad. The Scarwater docks were half empty, scattered with small- to medium-size